Redemption
by tysunkete
Summary: AU. On October 3rd, Kanda Yuu wakes up next to a man he hasn't seen since seven years ago. LaviYuu, hint of Allena. Trigger warnings.
1. Prologue

_Title: _Redemption

_Fandom: _DGM

_Character/Pairing(s):_ Lavi/Kanda

_Warnings: _trigger warnings? Panic attacks.

_Summary: _AU. On October 3rd, Kanda Yuu wakes up next to a man he hasn't seen since seven years ago. LaviYuu, hint of Allena. Trigger warnings.

* * *

_Prologue_

* * *

Fuck, it _hurt_.

Kanda groans inaudibly as his consciousness filters in, nose catching the stench of alcohol, sweat and sex. His body aches—in _that_ particular way, and he has no desire to move out of wherever he is, because it is actually comfortable, or maybe he's just too tired. But sunlight is blaring down at his eyes and he cannot avoid it no matter how he buries his face in whichever direction. Eventually he seeks to move his hands at least. The first grope causes him to be aware of how very warm whatever he's touching seems to be, and then he realises it's a _body_.

It takes a few more seconds to realise that someone is holding his waist. Blearily he cracks his eye open, wincing at the burst of brightness, to see who the hell fucked him last night. It isn't an odd case—he's done this a couple of times, never at his place, and he is always quick to leave in the morning no matter how bad his hangover is.

This time it's a redhead—again, not unusual—and Kanda closes his eyes for a few more indulgent seconds before he wriggles his way out. The arm around his waist tightens when he makes the first movement, and the owner sounds a groan. He pries open the grip without much care, ignoring the dull ache at the back of his head, and sits at the bed edge.

The first thing he notices are the finger marks on his bare thighs. There are other more marks, and Kanda is sure he gave it as much as he got, but he hopes there is nothing on his neck or else he'd have to kill the son of a bitch—Tiedoll would freak the fuck out if the older saw them…or fuss over non-existent mosquitos in his apartment.

He casts a bleary glance around for his clothes and finds them at the doorway. It takes a bit of effort to pull them back on, absentmindedly nudging the other clothes that doesn't belong to him with his foot. He's buttoning up the last of his shirt when he toes upon a black eyepatch.

Huh.

He hasn't met anyone who wore an eyepatch since—

A redhead.

"Leaving so soon?"

Kanda struggles to breathe—he doesn't know if he was exhaling or inhaling at that point, but it doesn't make a difference.

_Hey Yuu, leaving so soon?_

Instantly his stomach churns, but he ignores it, focusing on getting his hands to button that fucking last button right, because the minute tremble in his fingers are threatening to render his actions useless.

_What are the chances, right? That this guy wears an eyepatch and sounds the same as La_— he cuts off the thought ruthlessly. He wanted to be fucked to forget about that shit, not to be reminded of it.

"I have breakfast in the kitchen if you're hungry—" the other goes on with a scratchy voice, and fuck, that _accent_— "or painkillers, if your head is killing you like mine is."

"…I have work," Kanda bits out, still refusing to turn around.

"On a Saturday? We could go another round."

"Work."

"Well, I can give you a ride if you're so insistent," the reply is fast. "Not that _your_ riding skills are anything to—"

"Do you always have to talk this much?" Kanda snaps, cocking his head to the side to glare at the person responsible.

He knows he shouldn't have done it but he did—he's never one to reign his impulses when he gets irritated. And no matter how many times he thinks back to this, it's the point of second regret.

The redhead's hair slightly longer than he remembers. It's mussed, ends sticking up. His features are more mature—of course, seven years tended to do that to some people, pity about the personality—and glint in his one eye is sharper. And the other eye where an eyepatch always placed—something he had wanted to know but was too afraid to ask—now all in its visible glory, a jagged scar stretching across a sewn eyelid. His physique is broader, more muscled—fuck, Kanda vaguely remembers the hard body pressed up tight against him last night—but everything else is the same—the colour of his emerald eye, the cheesy innocent grin, the red of his hair.

He still finds himself struggling to breathe, even after all these years.

Lavi.

It's Lavi. It's definitely Lavi, because there's no way to erase any memory of seven years ago, no matter how hard he has—and still am, trying.

It suddenly feels like he's drowning on air. The breath in his throat gets completely stuck. His hands go ice cold. Numbly, he tries to swallow but his muscles don't want to comply. But his face barely gives anything away, just a slight widening of his eyes and the inaudible mouth part where he attempts to suck in some air—but he's not breathing, not breathing—

The redhead cocks his head slightly, ends of his hair tickling his shoulder.

"My offers still stand—"

Kanda forces himself to turn his gaze away pointedly, clenching his fists tight. Only then does he dare to shut his eyes, controlling the next few words he needs to say.

He can do this. He can do this. He has to do this.

"N-neither," Kanda forces out. He can nearly taste the bile on his tongue, and he will if he spends one more minute lingering. "I need to go."

His legs carry him out of the room, straight for the front door.

"Hey!"

Lavi calls—Lavi, Lavi, fuck, _Lavi_—

"Hey, at least give me your name and number, beautiful!"

_He doesn't recognise me_, Kanda thinks vaguely. _He doesn't—_

But it doesn't make a difference. He's out onto the main road before he remembers to breathe. He puts as much distance as he can as he coughs violently into his palm, shooting paranoid glances behind him. It is only after he crosses a few blocks and rounds a corner that he stops and leans against a railing of a bus top. His head is throbbing. The air is chill, season seeping into autumn, and it helps slightly to clear the mud in his head.

Clenching a loose grip over his abdomen, he takes a shaky glance at the map at the bus stop.

Canada Water.

It's then that he takes a good look at his surroundings, and back at the building which he had hastily escaped from. The high rise flat of apartments stands stark in contrast to the other houses in the area. How is it that Lavi—motherfucking _Lavi_—had been living so close to where he was at Canary Wharf?

And to think all these years of running away just brought him closer than ever before.

It barely takes him eight minutes to get home to his apartment by bus. It feels like it takes longer for his trembling hands to search his pockets for his key—thank god his wallet and keys were in his pockets, he didn't want to think of the alternative—and even longer for him to slot it successfully into the key hole.

He grimaces and shuts his eyes as he feels his gag reflex kicking in, never mind that his stomach is empty, empty, _empty_—it's by familiarity that he stumbles into his bathroom blindly and clutches the tap of his sink when he lurches forward to retch, the disgusting throaty noises drumming through his ears.

His fringe gets into his eyes, and he grips it back forcefully. His headache decides to imitate the sensation of a bullet through his brain at this point, and his knees nearly buckle. Hair strands slip through, but at least the back of his hair is short so that he doesn't have to bother holding the whole length back like he would have six years ago. Nothing except spittle comes out as he's predicted, but it doesn't stop his stomach for churning again and forcing another dry retch.

_It's okay_, he tells himself. _It's okay. It's okay. It's okay._ He just needs to breathe._ One in. One out. One in. One out._

It's okay. It's not the same as seven years ago when he made the decision to do what he did. There's a reason why he left that ridiculous redhead, and if he could, he would do it again. He just met Lavi by chance. A simple one night stand. It's fine. Lavi doesn't recognise who he is with his short hair. Or maybe Lavi's forgotten about him, which by right should be the best outcome, but somehow it makes his gut sour more and he coughs out more spit.

_It's okay,_ he repeats to himself.

It's okay if _Lavi_ fucked him, and he doesn't remember a thing.


	2. One

_One_

* * *

Lavi has had a couple of regrets in his life, but none so recent as letting that black haired beauty out of his flat without a name or number. Although he is blessed with eidetic memory, he cannot fully picture that person's face, made fuzzy by the amount of alcohol that probably ended them up in that situation. It takes a bit of the weekend to recall how he met the stranger—he was in a club the previous night, he remembers, and then he had spotted someone at the bar counter who seemed a bit familiar. Short black hair that ended at the nape, but with front bangs brushing his chin. Nothing came to mind when he kept glancing at the figure sitting back toward him, knocking back a shot. Curiosity won through and he excused himself from his current company to take a seat away from the man.

There was only space on the figure's left side, which made it near impossible to see a full profile of the face due to his half blind condition. Yet, the side profile was enough to bewitch him to stay. He stood, trying to be inconspicuous as he debated the best way to introduce himself—it was a touchy thing if he wasn't sure of the other's sexual preference—personally, he swung both ways, a compliment was a compliment, right?—when a shot glass slid towards him.

He blinked in confusion, glancing over properly to see a small smirk on the other's lips. Without a second thought he accepted the challenge, knocking back the tequila shot just as the other raised his own to his lips.

From then on everything was a bit of a blur. There was definitely more drinking, and there was a bit of heavy grinding that followed somewhere to his apartment. He could only clearly picture the tattoo that was inked beautifully on the other's unblemished skin, because he had traced his tongue over the pattern countless times in the night. There was a lot of groaning, the good kind of groaning, and fuck, there was this thought that he had never seen anyone hotter in his life _except_—except Y—

Lavi exhales forcefully as he looks up at the office building, framed in delicate glass. Holborn is a bit of a way from his place and he doesn't own a car—yet. He might, but there's always a problem of the gas prices and parking fees and his uncle isn't exactly generous with the wealth they actually have. It's not a bad thing to learn the principles of hard work—he made it through Oxford just by scholarships, even for his allowance—but you know, it'd just be _nice_, once in a while. Glancing at his watch, he blanches because he hopes the old man's friend isn't a stickler for time, if not, he'd be fired on his first day with his new client.

He gets into the building fine, bypassing the large letters on the marble wall spelling out _Eden's Art_. He quickly runs through in his head the material his uncle had given him to read about the job—Froi Tiedoll, founder of _Eden's Art_, an art management company that organises art gallery exhibits and auctions, is apparently a long-time friend of his uncle's, and he requires some paperwork to be dealt with as the company see to expand their auction intake.

Usually one of the other associates take on _Eden's Art_ business, but today the old man wants him to get acquainted with Tideoll and his son. Lavi doesn't mind all the meet and greet stuff, but he isn't too confident about laws in art management. Perhaps he should've read a little more before stepping in, but of course it is too late, as a large white haired man stands up the moment he enters the top floor reception.

"I am so sorry to keep you waiting, sir," Lavi begins nervously, immediately recognising the face from the pictures. "There was a signal fault on the central line, I—"

"No need to worry about that," the man smiles warmly as he offers his hand. "Froi Tiedoll, pleased to finally meet Bookman's nephew."

"Lavi, and likewise, sir," he nods in response as he returns the firm handshake.

The older man beckons to follow him as they weave through the office towards the back. "I would love to introduce you to our system but I'm afraid I have a meeting in ten minutes. My son will explain anything you have questions of," he continues as they walk down a line of glass offices until they come upon one with the blinds down.

Tiedoll sighs and shakes his head with a smile. "I've told him countless of times not to shut the blinds but he never listens. He is very stubborn and can get a little rude, so please excuse his behaviour in advance."

Lavi scratches his cheek with a chuckle. "I'm sure we'll get along just—" he trails off the moment he lays eye on the name on the door.

_Kanda Yuu._

Nothing can prepare him for the shock of seeing the same person he saw on Saturday morning in his room right across him at the desk at the particular moment. He notes the front bangs sweeping over the other's eyes before the head was lifted at the interruption into the office, followed by the irritated snap that never made through as it was swallowed by a mask of pure disbelief.

"Yuu, this is Lavi—he's the nephew of the friend I was telling you about. He's the lawyer who'll now deal with all our auction proceedings, so run by him some of our biggest clients, like _Noah's Ark_. I made sure your morning is free so take as much time as you need with him, please don't—"

It's definitely the same person he fucked that night, unbelievably gorgeous in an open collared suit. Except, Tiedoll called him _Yuu_ and the name on the door is _Kanda Yuu_—

_Kanda Yuu, Kanda Yuu, Kanda Yuu, _

His_ Yuu—_

Those stormy navy eyes and structured features that haunted him since he's met the other, those lips he's fantasized about devouring for years, suddenly, everything stands out clear like it did seven years ago back in high school, when he saw Kanda for the first time and thought he was the most beautiful person he'd seen since…since ever. Except Kanda doesn't have a delicate shoulder stance like he used to, neither is his jawline that subtle. He has definitely put on muscle—fuck that _night_—and no one can mistake him for a girl anymore, yet his androgynousity still seemed to linger.

But most of all— "Your hair…" Lavi whispers unconsciously under his breath. _Short. So short._

"—he had first class honours in Oxford, so don't complain to me that he's incompetent. I assure you that all of Bookman's associates and especially his own nephew are extremely good at their jobs. I also heard that he's the same age as you are. Perhaps you two will be friends. Don't be rude to him, Yuu," Tiedoll looks pointedly at Kanda, oblivious to the sudden tension. "Well, I leave my son in your good hands."

Lavi startles immediately by the hand on his shoulder. He can't take his eye away from Kanda who just seems to be staring right back, stone still in his seat. He vaguely registers himself nodding before Tiedoll slips out and closes the door behind him, leaving them two alone.

For at least a long minute neither of them move, until Kanda suddenly stands up, chair screeching. His fists are clenched as he moves stiffly towards the door, where Lavi realises that Kanda isn't looking at him at all. The other is looking at the door, of which opens and closes in less than a second, leaving him to stare at the blank space of the opaque glass door.

* * *

_God. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Kanda isn't sure if god is playing a joke on him but it's bad and it needs to stop now. On Sunday he wakes up to ghost of Lavi mouthing his neck and hand on his cock, on Monday he nearly oversleeps from a dream that took him back to high school, the very first day where Lavi sat beside him in orientation and dragged him into the stupid games. On Tuesday night he barely sleeps, remembering how hard it got to breathe whenever the redhead looked at him, whenever Lavi hugged him on impulse, whenever Lavi asked to hang out—

_Fuck._

He manages to reach the toilets and slams into a cubicle, locking the door hastily. Less than a second he's on his knees, hands clenched over his mouth as he feels the familiar sickening kick in his stomach.

_Oh god, oh god, not again, not—_

He cannot stop the reflex in his throat when he gags, eyes squeezed shut. Nothing comes out.

_Fuck. Shit. Fuck—fuck—_

And again, he swallows uncomfortably and heaves a split second later, only saliva spitting into the toilet bowl. He yanks a length of paper and presses it to his mouth. He sits back and tries to breathe, but his intakes of air are rough and shaky and he squirms when his stomach makes another churn.

_It's just Lavi. It's just fucking Lavi and his fucking—fuck—shit—_

Deep breath.

_It's okay. You're over this. You've done this. Just breathe. Breathe—f__uck, fuck fuck fuck can't breathe, can't fucking breathe—_

With a trembling hand he pulls out his phone from his pocket, letting it clatter to the ground. It takes a while to press the correct button for speed dial, but when he does, he presses it tight against his right ear as he shudders harshly through his mouth.

The line rings for about three rings before it's picked up.

"Wow, since when did you call me, Yuu?" the voice sings happily, a stark contrast to his current condition. "Not since well—anyway, what's up, my man?"

The sound of a retch immediately changed the tone.

"Fuck. Shit. Yuu? Yuu, breathe with me, alright? You know my voice. It's Alma. Your BFF. Right? Everything is okay. It's okay, Yuu. I'm here, see?" Alma intoned soothingly. "Listen to me. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Slow breaths. With me. One-and-two. One-and-two. One-and-two—"

A few minutes later of controlled breathing, Kanda takes in his last sudden gasp of air and breathes out slowly, hand relaxing on his grip on the phone.

"Are you alive, Yuu?"

"…Maybe," Kanda mutters, sinking against the cubicle door. "Well. Shit."

"Well," Alma echoes, letting it linger until Kanda's breathing subsides to its normal pace. "I'm coming over tonight."

"Fuck, no."

"Fuck yes," Alma retorts. "You haven't had a panic attack in ages."

"Not true," Kanda mutters.

"I mean, a panic attack like _that_," Alma corrects. "The last time—"

"Don't remind me of the last fucking time."

"Was that pun intended?" Alma grins at the growl he received in turn. "Look, I can't stay to argue with you in the toilet as romantic as it is, there's a brunch crowd and the old man will fry my literal ass if any one of them complain about slow service."

"They're more likely to complain about the shit that you cook."

"Yeah, love you too. I'll see you at home, sweetheart."

"Fuck you."

Alma makes a kissing smack before he hangs up the phone. It's a good thing that he does, because the toilet main door swings open to emit its newest patron, and Kanda hoists himself up to sit on the closed seat in case someone tries to do some shit like looking under the cubicle doors.

Kanda startles when the door of the cubicle he's in rattles with a rap.

"Yuu?" It's Tiedoll. "Lavi said you looked unwell. He took his leave, but he'll be arranging a proper meeting for you two to go through the necessary. Are you alright, son?"

"Just some…" Kanda forces out, voice hoarse from all the gagging earlier. "...something I ate."

"Oh dear. Take the day off and drink lots of water. I'll drop by tonight and—"

"No!" Kanda hastens to continue. "No…Alma said he's coming by. Or some shit."

"I'll remind him to bring along a couple of charcoal pills then, just in case," His guardian says, voice gentle. "Can you come out?"

"Just…in a minute."

The minute stretches as Kanda looks at his lap the whole time. He knows he's taking too long and that's the point of it all.

"Son, I'll call a cab for you. I don't want to find you in the office later, alright?"

Kanda grunts in acknowledgement.

"Rest well. Give me a call when you're home."

The echoes of Tiedoll's footsteps doesn't provide the relief that he was hoping for.

* * *

For all the years that Allen has known Lavi, he would say that the guy is the most cheerful and happy go lucky person he's ever met. In fact, it boils down to Lavi's easy going persona that they became friends—a random meet in the university dorms when Allen was a mere freshman and Lavi a master's student, and now three years later, Lavi is basically his best bud. It also means that he gets privy to the sombre personality held under façade for three years and counting.

When Allen slides into the seat at _Burger & Shake_ at Russell Square for dinner, he's met with Lavi munching absently on a French fry. Without a word Lavi pushes the entire tray of a cheese burger and chips towards him. Allen raises an eyebrow silently and Lavi nods in response. Shrugging, Allen digs into the meal—good burger, but _MeatMarket _is still better, he thinks, until Lavi speaks when he's ready.

"I met him."

Allen chews slowly. "Him? Which him?"

"Him," Lavi swallows the last of the fry. "As in…_that_ him."

The younger male pauses. "…Yuu Kanda?" he says slowly, because he's heard _a lot_ about the guy even if he's never met him, and if there ever was a time where Lavi wanted to be vague about which _him_ he was referring to, it was probably Yuu Kanda.

"Kanda Yuu," Lavi corrects on reflex. "He's Japanese, see? Ah, fuck, I've told you this a million times, haven't I? Goddamnit—"

"Lavi," Allen begins in concern. "What happened?"

The redhead shakes his head and throws his hands up in the air, before slapping it over his forehead. "Fuck. It's a conspiracy. All of it is. A fucking conspiracy—"

Allen stuffs a chip into his mouth to stop the ramble. Lavi sighs and takes it out, biting it viciously. "I wanted to do some binge eating but thinking of all this? I'm not hungry anymore, what gives," he mutters sulkily.

"What happened, Lavi?" Allen repeats, gentle. "You met Kanda? _Actual_ Kanda?"

"I met Yuu," the older affirms, face twisting. "Turns out, he's now one of my clients. Apparently, he's the foster son of one of my old man's friends. Long-time buddy even," he snorts. "We've done cultural property for _Eden's Art_ even before I went into law school. What the hell. And now since I have to learn all aspects of the company, I have to take on their dealings for a while. And guess what?" he asks sarcastically. "_Kanda_ fucking _Yuu_ is my fucking _client_."

After a few silent chews, Allen ventures quietly. "So how did it go?"

Lavi shrugs. "We didn't talk."

"I see," Allen says in response, eating another bite of his burger.

There is a troubled look in the redhead's face that clearly states that there is more to the story. He waits calmly, and after twenty seconds the redhead starts to muss up his hair.

"I fucked him."

Allen promptly chokes. Honest to god, a piece lodges in his throat and it takes several coughs to get it down his gullet. "You _what_?"

"Fucked him," Lavi repeats even though it was crystal clear the first time. "Last weekend, I was out at a club with a couple of pals and long story short, it somehow ended up with him in my bed."

"You didn't recognise him?" Allen asks, bewildered.

"I was pretty shit-faced by then. God, he was doing this thing with his tongue and then—"

"—too much information, _much_ too much information!"

Lavi shakes his head. "Anyway. I didn't recognise him the morning after either. It was just, today, I saw his name on his office door and everything sorta hit me at once, you know? He has a tattoo on his chest now. He didn't have that the last time. And his hair…" he continues. "It's short. Like really short. Or maybe it's just really short because he had such long hair. Not that it's bad, I mean, he's still so h…" he trails off into silence.

The younger male lets Lavi sit in quietness for a couple of minutes before starting cautiously. "I thought you were over him."

"I am. I _am_," the other states. "It's just..." he swallows. "…just the shock, you know? I never thought I'd see him again. Not after seven years."

"So what now?"

"I don't know," Lavi shrugs. "I…I want to talk to him but at the same time I don't. I mean…he's the one who disappeared like a ghost after high school, which, fine, seven years I've thought about it, maybe he had his reasons, maybe he lied about liking me back, _fine_, whatever," he breathes heavily. "I'm over it. But today he walked right past me. He walked out on me twice," he shuts his eye and corrects again, bitterness seeping into his tone. "Thrice. Fuck."

"Lavi…"

"But all that doesn't matter one shit. I have to meet him or else the old man will kill me," Lavi grumbles. "God. Fuck. I hate my life."

* * *

If Alma was to recount his love affair with Kanda Yuu—it has never stopped. It started when Tiedoll put young Kanda in Zuu Mei's place whenever the artist had an art exhibition to travel to, and the two children formed a fast and unbreakable (Alma sticks, he knows he does) friendship. Also, who else could withstand the fiery moods and tempers of Kanda? Only Alma Karma, best friend extraordinaire.

"So…are you gonna talk or am I going to have to draw out the big guns?"

"Go home," Kanda snaps, nudging Alma by the ribs when the latter leans over his shoulder as he washes the dishes.

"No can do—literally, your old man told me to stay the night."

Kanda glowers at his hands under the tap, shutting off the water supply forcefully after he places the last plate on the rack. "Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Sure," Alma grins. "You wanna drive me? An itty bitty favour since I drove your car home from the office, hmm?"

"You have a tube discount, use it."

"Come on, Yuu. You need to talk about it. I've told you before. Talking about it—"

"—doesn't help me in the slightest fucking bit," Kanda retorts, crossing his arms.

"Actually, it helps me understand you which helps you inadvertently. Your argument is invalid. As always."

"God fucking Karma—"

"I'm sure that goes against every religion," Alma rolls his eyes, and he knows that Kanda will accede eventually, because the man doesn't wrestle away when Alma pushes him onto his own couch. "Remember what I said, Yuu. Please?"

"Whatever," Kanda sighs irritably. "…I met him."

"Him," Alma repeats. "As in _that_ him, or him _him_?"

"What?"

"You know," he gestures vaguely. "The first one, or the actual first one?"

"_What_?"

"The guy who fucked you first or the guy who fucked you over?" Alma groans, annoyed that he had to spell it out. Seems like their telepathic game was a total failure.

Kanda presses his lips together flatly. "Fuck, I hate you."

"There were only two people who ever made you lose it completely, so which one is it, princess?"

"The second one. And I fucking dare you to call me that one more time."

Alma ignores the glare. "The second one after the first one, or are you referring to the second one of the choices I gave you?"

Kanda grits his teeth in frustration. "It was fucking _Lavi_, okay? Lavi. Fuck."

Alma stares at him seriously while he tries to avoid it. A hand curves over the back of his nape and he closes his eyes, face pressed into his palm.

"What happened, Yuu?" Alma murmurs gently.

"Apparently, he's the nephew of one of the old man's friends," Kanda begins, muttering it all out. "Bookman."

"That lawyer powerhouse? God damn."

"He's working for his uncle now. Which means I have to deal with the legal shit with him. Fuck."

"Talk about fate," Alma muses, slowly massaging Kanda's shoulders. "Or a small world. Well. Coincidence, right? It just so happens that—"

"He fucked me."

Alma gurgles, because he chokes on his own spit. "Whoa—what?" he demands after his coughing fit. "Rewind. What? _What_?"

Kanda sends him a glare. "That day. At the club. When you ditched me to go grind with that girl."

"You had fun too, don't lie," Alma huffs. "I saw you making out with a redhead—wait, are you saying _that_ was motherfucking _Lavi_?" he splutters, eyes wide as Kanda nods curtly. "Blow me. But you're telling me that you made out with him and you didn't even recognise him? Well, granted that you always somehow end up fucking redheads, with the exception of one—"

"I was shit-faced drunk," Kanda interrupts him with a glare. "I recognised him the next morning."

"And then?"

"He didn't recognise me then."

"So you ran out," Alma completes for him. "Did you freak out?" A grunt. "I'll assume you did. Fuck, you should've called me. Yuu—"

"Don't," Kanda snaps. "Don't you fucking dare say it. I'm over the fucking idiot. It's just," he swallows uncomfortably. "...just a shock."

"Right," Alma nods, although his stare clearly says he doesn't believe a word. "Okay…okay…but I gotta ask this: was he good?" At the heated glare he receives, he raises his hands in surrender. "I'm asking from a purely objective point of view. Like on a rate from one to everyone you've slept with, how good was he?"

"I—…I don't remember much."

"Bummer," Alma blinks. "So what now? Seems like you're in some serious destiny fate thing. One's an incident and two's a coincidence but three's a pattern. It's a total pattern if you're gonna have to see him regularly."

"Shut up. And I don't fucking know."

"Okay…do you think you're up for meeting him again? You kind of have to, since your old man put you in charge of him," Alma starts carefully. "Or you could just tell—"

"No."

"Yuu—"

"_Alma_."

Alma bites his tongue. "Fine. But I'm just saying, Tiedoll will understand. You know he will."

"I don't even understand it myself," Kanda scoffs. "I'm so fucked up."

"None of this is your fault, okay, Yuu? Why can't you understand that? There's nothing wrong with you—"

"But there _is_ something wrong with me!" Kanda hisses. "Fuck. You know it. Normal people don't get sick just thinking of a crowd of people. Normal people don't want to throw up at the thought of someone they know. Normal people don't call other people in the middle of a _fucking panic attack_ because _they can't fucking breathe_—" he shakes his head, voice cracking. "I fucking _know_ I'm fucked up, Alma. If I'm not fucked up then what the _fuck_ does that make me?"

Alma swallows at the outburst, staring at the movement of Kanda's back as the other struggles to breathe in roughly.

"Human," he says after a while, as they sit side by side in silence. "It makes you human."


	3. Two

_Two_

* * *

It's inevitable, but they meet. As much as Kanda doesn't want to see Lavi's face he has to, because if he makes enough excuses or request someone else to take over this particular duty Tiedoll will start to ask questions and that's an even worse case scenario. Besides, he does need Lavi to get familiar with their contracts or else there's going to be a hold up their administrative side, and he'd be dammed if _he_ is the cause of it. If he can get his act together right, he can stomach the redhead in the same room for an hour or two. He can. All he has to do is to give Lavi the files, point out their special cases and run through the standard procedures. The redhead was always quick to pick up things despite how idiotic he acts on a daily basis—Kanda's sure if he'd just be able to get this done, Lavi can deal with the proceedings without his help, and they never have to see each other again except during the signings.

All he has to do, is to not remember the past.

There's no point to it all anymore, anyway, is there? So what if Lavi still makes his stomach flip like seven years ago? They've haven't been in contact. Lavi probably isn't the same person anymore. Hell, for all he knows, Lavi has someone else, someone else who he's happier with—happy with. Who's to say Lavi even _cares_ now?

_9:04 a.m._

The fucking asshole is late.

He's always late, Kanda thinks viciously as he drums his fingers on his table, folders all neatly laid out. He's only waiting for this stupid meeting to be _over_, and that cannot happen if the said person doesn't turn up. He takes the extra minutes to run through what he's prepared to say. Clients, contracts, procedures. It's simple enough that he can do this in his sleep since he's handled it for a couple of years now.

_9:06 am_.

Fucking Lavi.

At _9:11 am_ his door bursts open.

"Sorry, sorry, I am so sorry I swear!" Lavi babbles, shutting the door behind him. "I left home like thirty minutes early and I still got stuck on the tube. There was a train breakdown before mine, and the congestion was just—"

"Shut up," Kanda grinds his teeth, already feeling his stomach tighten. He makes a mental note to tell the reception to _never_ let Lavi barge his way in.

Lavi clamps his mouth shut, eye wide. He's still breathing heavily from his obvious haste to get here, chest rising and falling rapidly. He looks lost as if he suddenly realises who he's talking to, and his facial features stiffen slightly.

"I truly apologise for being late," he says one last time with a distinctly formal air before pulling at the scarf at his neck—orange, fucking _neon orange_. "It won't happen again."

Kanda trains his eyes on his desk as he scowls. "Sit. There's a lot to go through."

Lavi does so obediently, though Kanda can feel the constant glances at him, like the redhead _wants_ to say something but can't bring himself to. Kanda doesn't give him a chance, instantly sliding over a stack of files.

"Read them," he orders curtly.

The redhead looks at it warily. "All of them? Now?"

"Yes," Kanda says impatiently. "There's no point in explaining anything until you know who the fuck our clients are. Read."

"You don't always have to be so forceful, Yuu," Lavi mutters, grabbing the file.

Kanda clenches his fingers unseen underneath the table at the sound of his name. He doesn't want to hear it from Lavi so easily, not his first name, not when it brings him back to—no. He's not going to think about it.

His office is dreadfully silent and while he likes it that way, it's not helping the situation in this particular time. Pages flip at a steady pace—Lavi's always been an incredibly quick reader with his unfair memory advantage, one of the reasons why Kanda rather the redhead read them now instead of taking them home (Kanda does not want to deal with the possibility of leaked information/missing property). There is nothing to do as Lavi reads the folder quietly, lips pressed tight together.

Kanda finds himself inevitably watching Lavi; the bumps on the fingers on his right hand from too much writing, his habit of nonsensical finger drumming when he's concentrating, the dead blank stare when he absorbs information into his brain. His hair is still as red as ever, still looks as soft as ever, and maybe it is, underneath his fingers during _that_ night—stop. Stop.

Stop.

He takes in an inconspicuous breath before he chokes. His windpipe still feels unnaturally tight, but it's good so far—the urge to gag is sitting low in his stomach—not absent but not forcing its way out either—and he rewinds Alma's advice to count as he breathes.

_Count your fingers, Yuu. Count them._

When he flicks his gaze to Lavi at the end of ten he catches the other peeking at him from above the file.

"What?" he snaps.

"Nothing," Lavi mumbles, eye shooting back to the paper.

Minutes pass and the dead silence except for Lavi's irritating finger drumming continues, folder by folder being placed onto the read stack.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Lavi says completely suddenly on his fifth file, not even looking up.

It's pathetic but Kanda knows exactly what Lavi is referring to, and this _is_ the situation they're in; tension so tight that it was starting to crack.

"There's nothing to talk about," he states, voice flat.

"Right," Lavi replies, gaze still moving rapidly down his sheet of paper.

* * *

"_Right," the teenage boy in front of him says awkwardly after a minute of silence._

_Kanda is too busy cursing life in general to pay attention. Fuck, even if he hated middle school he'd rather go back now, because back then he had Alma and now he's stuck in a sea of unknown strangers who will most likely stay as unknown strangers till he graduates. He feels queasy just being in a place with so many people. So what if he's forced to attend orientation? The outcome will be the same as he predicts—everyone will learn to avoid him by the end of the two years, and no one will know his first name. It's just a fact of life that he's anti-social. He knows it, and, it's not like he wants to be this way._

_It's just him. It's always been him._

_This stupid get-to-know your partner game isn't going to change anything. Especially not when his partner is a weird one-eyed redhead._

"_If you don't know what to say to introduce yourself," the boy continues slowly, uncertain. "I'll just ask questions…? Okay?" he's clearly intimidated by the dark scowl Kanda has on, but ploughs forward anyway. "Awesome."_

_Kanda edges back at the enthusiastic excitement, looking wary. Even if the boy had blabbered on for the past few minutes introducing himself, he hadn't exactly listened, except bits and bits like "I'm Brit-born" and "my blood is a ton of Euro" or something. He certainly doesn't recall whatever this guy's name is._

"_So, basics. I'm Lavi, if you've forgotten already. What's your name?" The other pouts at the lack of response, and it looks too childish for someone at their age._

"…"

"_If you're mute you can sign your name. I can sign too," he says, and starts moving his hands in a pattern that makes no sense to Kanda "…No? __¿Hablas español? Wait, no, you're clearly Asian," he muses as t__he weird hand gestures continue. "__Bahasa melayu? Hangugmal hae? __还是讲中文__? __日本語__?"_

_Kanda refuses to give the other the satisfaction of getting it right, but the recognition of the words are clear on his face. He doesn't speak the language fluently since he's been brought up in London for a very long time, but he does know that particular phrase. _

_Lavi grins triumphantly. "__お名前はなんですか？"_

_Kanda sours because he knows the redhead will not stop until he gets what he wants. "…Kanda," he says very reluctantly._

_Fuck, why did this guy even choose him as a partner? He'd be much more comfortable sitting out of this activity._

"_That's a start," the teen nods. "Now, your first name."_

"_Kanda," he repeats, scowling._

"_I know it's not," Lavi sings, apparently getting immune to the hostile expressions Kanda's been putting on._

"_What the hell do you know?" Kanda snaps loudly, instantly wincing inwardly at his own harsh tone._

_And that's just it. He doesn't feel right around people and he can't control his temper. He really should've just pretended to be sick._

"_I know 'Kanda' is a Japanese surname," Lavi explains, leaning forward curiously. "Are you full blooded Jap? You have blue eyes, which is an incredibility rare genetic trait in Asians," he squints. "You're really pretty ya know."_

"_I'm not a fucking girl," Kanda grits out, because it's been one too many times already._

"_Chill out, dude. I know. It's just an adjective. I wasn't' implying anything else," the redhead says easily, getting more comfortable. "So, are you half? Or a quarter? Or like a salad dish mix like me?" he presses._

_Kanda tries to take a deep breath and control his temper—control, control, _control_—and at the end of the next ten minutes, Kanda has told Lavi more personal information about himself than he has to anyone in his life excluding Alma._

_How the fuck does that happen?_

* * *

Lavi closes the last folder he's holding with a snap. "Look," he starts with a deep breath, obviously ready with intent. "About—"

"Nothing happened," Kanda states over him evenly, jaw clenching tight. "Are you done?"

The redhead looks like he wants to protest but he eventually gives a curt nod. "Yes."

Kanda drags the pile of folders back towards him, just so as to create a mini wall between them.

"You know our clients," he begins stiffly, having memorised what to say with the shortest time possible. "All the contracts we have outstanding are listed in the folders. Their originals are kept with me if you need them, but there should be no problems with any of our current proceedings. I deal with any of our clients when they want to sell a piece, you come in when they want to buy, or if their bid from the auction has gone through. Here's the standard paperwork for each of the cases—" he pushes the relevant papers towards the other. "—memorise our clauses and make it clear to our clients. If any discrepancies come up, your company will pay the balance, is that clear?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Lavi says as he skims more paperwork, joy. "What if the client has issues with your clauses? Are you guys open for negotiation, or—"

"They don't," Kanda replies flatly. "The client that you will deal with most often is _Noah's Ark_," he continues, pushing another file to Lavi. "They tend to buy contemporary art, especially sculptures and paintings. They have a bid in place for a _Georg Herold_ sculpture, which means you'll most likely be meeting them in a week."

"Okay," the redhead nods slowly, "Can I ask you something?"

* * *

"_Can I ask you something?" Lavi asks him one day after class, outside the computer lab._

_The corridor is empty since it's late, bordering on the evening, and Lavi has an odd look to his features as he adjusts the straps of his backpack._

"_What?" Kanda turns to stare at him questioningly._

_It's been nine months and somehow the redhead considers himself his _best friend_, and Kanda doesn't understand how it happened. Grudgingly he can admit he's been spending all his time in school with Lavi, because Lavi laughs off his glares and curses and hangs onto him by the shoulder and teases him every single day. _

_He really thought he'd be sitting at the back of the class every day without the need to open his mouth, but in reality he's exchanged words with most of the boys in their class even if most of it are to order them to shut Lavi up. He's too busy being annoyed by Lavi to think about sitting alone, to or be alone—and suddenly, with Lavi by his side, he _isn't_ alone._

_It's a strange thing that he's getting used to. It's a strange thing actually _liking_ it. The cheesy grins start being less aggravating, the accent starts being less annoying and more familiar. The touching starts being a constant, and it's weird._

_It churns his gut like it does when strangers try to talk to him. It makes it hard to swallow when the redhead makes inappropriate comments about his appearance. It makes him feel slightly warm when Lavi enthusiastically shouts cutesy nicknames at him across the classroom every morning, even though they both know it's just one of the other's daily antics to get a rise out of him._

_But it doesn't make sense because he is—god-forbid he admits this ever—_comfortable_ with Lavi. Lavi isn't like the other people he doesn't know anymore. He knows Lavi. _

_He knows the fucking idiot._

_Who, still hasn't said a word._

"_I'm leaving," Kanda announces, turning on his heel. _

"_Wait!" Lavi scrambles. "W-wait, Yuu! It's important!"_

"What_ the fuck is it?" he sighs exasperatedly. "I need to catch the bus."_

"_Okay," the redhead says. "Okay, um," his expression twists uncomfortably, which makes Kanda curious because he rarely sees Lavi being _uncomfortable_. "Um, I, err…um—"_

"_Are you going to spit it out or not?"_

"_Yes, yes," he nods frantically. "Okay, okay," he pauses, and then rushes out. "What would you do if I told you I liked you?"_

"…_What..?" Kanda blinks, confused._

_Lavi continues nodding, obviously fidgety. _

"_What…am I supposed…to do?" Kanda says slowly, frowning._

_When the confused air doesn't dissipate, Lavi sucks in a breath. "Look, I really hope this doesn't get weird, but I...I uh…Ireallylikeyou." When silence follows, he tries again. "I said…I like you. In the gay way," he winces. "As in, more than a friend. More than a best friend. I…—" he falters, maybe because he's pressing a hand to his mouth trying not to blush like a tomato. _

_Kanda just stands stone still, except for the minute trembling of his fingers that Lavi doesn't notice._

"_Yuu?" the redhead ventures quietly after a minute of awkward silence. "I-I..I'm sorry, I just…—just pretend I never said that," he says quickly. "I'll, um, I'll see you tomorrow. Bye," he hurries out, disappearing down the staircase behind him._

_Kanda stares at the empty stairwell._

_Lavi just—…what?_

_What?_

_The queasy feeling in his stomach suddenly kicks in at full force and he tears his eyes away to look elsewhere, anywhere, anywhere away from the lingering traces of Lavi, Lavi who said _he liked him_? He lifts a hand to his eye level and vaguely notices that it's trembling. It's trembling so hard._

_Suddenly he realises he's standing at the bus stop and he doesn't know how he got there. Maybe, maybe it was just a dream. Maybe Lavi didn't say anything, it's just his brain and a stupid imagination._

What would you do if I told you I liked you?

_How could anyone _like_ him? How? How could anyone like someone so rude and rough and uncaring and _fucked up_ and—_

* * *

"—no, you _do not_ say a word about the price they offer for any art piece. It's their fucking money," Kanda grinds out, irritated. "You won't have a clue about what it's worth anyway."

"And I suppose you do?" Lavi raises a sarcastic eyebrow.

"Yes," Kanda states. "Any other stupid questions?"

Lavi grumbles under his breath but keeps it inaudible. "No," he mutters. "Always so bossy."

"And you never know when to shut up."

The redhead stares at him for the slipped comment.

_Count your fingers, Yuu. Count them._

"Yuu—"

"We're done," Kanda states firmly. "I have another meeting now."

It's a barely polite way of saying _please get the fuck out of my office_, and Lavi isn't stupid, not in the least. Kanda clearly doesn't want to talk about anything. Not about why he was ditched seven years ago. Not about what has happened since then. Not about their apparent one-night stand. Not about _them_—not about anything.

"Right," he says, tone controlled. "I'll see you in a week then."

He doesn't wait for a reply—he knows one won't come—and stalks out of the office, never looking back once. He doesn't bother to close the door because he know it'll piss Kanda off—so predictable are your habits, Yuu—because it's very clear what he stands to Kanda now, then, and probably forever:

Nothing.

Tiedoll is standing by the reception when he reaches, and he carefully rearranges his stony expression to look less like a serial murderer. Thankfully Tiedoll is talking to someone that buys him time to plaster a polite smile.

"Yuu didn't tell me you were picking him up for lunch," the elder says to someone who looks around the same age as he is, decked in a causal printed tee and low riding tight jeans.

"It's a surprise," the man places a finger on his lips and winks, earning a warm chuckle from Tiedoll.

"He's currently in a meeting with—oh, Lavi!" Tiedoll smiles wide when Lavi steps closer.

"Sir," he greets politely.

"Is everything fine?"

"Y-yeah," Lavi grins, even if it feels so fake. "Yuu talked me through everything."

"I hope he explained it properly to you," Tiedoll muses. "My boy tends to use the least number of words as possible to make his points. But no matter. If you're unclear about anything, please feel free to ask anyone."

"Thank you."

"Yuu's free now right?" the youth standing with them asks, eyes bright.

"Go ahead," Tiedoll smiles, patting the other on the shoulder.

The man grins brighter and flicks his gaze over to Lavi, line of sight travelling in a slow once over. Lavi meets the hidden judgemental stare with a false smile of his own. He doesn't know why but whoever this is, he irks him. Irks him really badly because it feels like this guy knows something about him, something that he can't place.

The other does a two finger salute at him or Tiedoll, he can't tell, with a grin that borderlines a smirk, disappearing down the corridor towards Kanda's office.

Lavi bids Tiedoll a good day and walks slowly to the tube station, thankful for the gust of cool autumn air.

Kanda has obviously moved on with someone else. Someone else who calls him by his first name and who's already met the family, it seems, unlike him who never had the privilege of knowing who Kanda's foster father was. If he known…if he had known, he'd never would've came to _Eden's Art_.

It's ridiculous, when he thinks about it.

It's been seven years.

He'd been angry for the first couple, and then the anger wore him out. Sometimes he thought about Kanda and the quiet "Me too." that the other muttered with his face blushing, sometimes he thought about the last time he ever saw Kanda, walking out of the school gate never looking back. Sometimes he doesn't think about Kanda anymore, because there's no point to it. It's just heartache after heartache after a _fucking ghost_ and it's not worth it.

He's moved on too. He'd be _stupid_ if he didn't. A high school crush will never be the love of his life. Teenagers think that their first love would be _the one_ and Lavi thought so too, but the truth is, you fall in love more than once. And it'll just be as extraordinary and amazing as the first one, and maybe just as painful. He's done dating and break ups after Kanda. He's done amazing sex and bad hook ups after Kanda.

He's got a ton of achievements and regrets after Kanda. All _nothing_ to do with Kanda.

So why, _why_, after all these years, does it still feel so painful in the chest?

* * *

Alma runs to Kanda's office the moment he knows Tiedoll and Lavi can't see him. He ignores the stares he gets from the other workers—they'll get over it, they've seen him enough times in the office anyway—and pushes at Kanda's door urgently when the door doesn't let him through.

"Yuu?" he knocks, not too loudly. "It's me. Alma."

The door widens up a small crack that Alma scrambles to push through and shuts it quietly once he's inside. Kanda is sitting with his back against the door on the floor, head between his knees.

"Yuu," Alma crouches worriedly. "Are you okay?" he murmurs gently, palm rubbing against Kanda's back in slow circles. "Can you look at me?"

Kanda shakes his head slowly, a shuddering gasp filtering in between. Alma presses closer, arm winding around the other's shoulders. "He's gone. I saw him leave. You did it. You did well. It's all okay, Yuu. It's okay now."

It sort of works, because Kanda feels steadier in under his hold but his breathing rate is still too rapid to be normal.

"You counted your fingers, right? How many were there?"

"…Ten."

"Ten," Alma echoes, nodding. "Count mine?"

Kanda barks a harsh laugh that's probably meant to be a mixture of a snort and a sneer, but he chokes on his tightened windpipe.

"It's too early for you to be laughing at me," Alma huffs. "Just count, you ass."

"One," Kanda forces out despite his uneven breaths. "Two."

"Three," Alma joins him. "Good, very good. Four. I'm up till four."

"Five," Kanda continues, tone getting more normal. "Six. Seven. Eight."

"Nine."

"Fucking ten," he finishes, leaning his head back.

"Gold star for you," Alma grins, patting his shoulder.

Kanda doesn't retort, but he does glare at the other, though, it looks distinctly tired.

* * *

_He's so jittery that he can't concentrate in class. Fuck Lavi. Fuck Lavi and his stupid confession. Fuck Lavi and his stupid confession on a Friday. Which meant the entire weekend was spent wondering if it was just a hallucination or if it actually happened, and if it actually happened, what is he supposed to _do_?_

What would you do if I—

What would you do—

_What the fuck is he supposed to do?_

_The bell rings for break time and Kanda can't find it in him to feel hungry even though he skipped breakfast. In fact, he actually feels like he needs to throw up._

"_Yuu?" Lavi's hand on his shoulder startles him. "You okay?"_

_The classroom has gone empty, and Kanda didn't even notice everyone else leaving. He wants to say _yes, yes it's okay_ but no, it's fucking _not_. Because._

_Because._

_Because._

"_Yuu?" the redhead starts, concerned. "This…this isn't about last week right?" he mumbles nervously, hand scratching his neck. "I said just forget about it, yeah? I'm fucking hungry, so let's—"_

"_Me too."_

_Fuck. Fuck why did he just _say_ that? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Kanda wants to stand and he almost tries to stand but he can't really feel his feet so he stays put in his seat, glaring at the table. The tip of his ears feel red hot and he resists touching his face just because he knows it's coloured the same._

_Lavi stands open mouthed gaping, hand on his neck dropping slack. "Um."_

_It was a joke right? A stupid joke that Kanda stupidly fell for, because there's no way anyone could—_

_The redhead pulls out the chair from the desk in front of him and plants himself down, because he isn't sure how long he can keep standing. He has a kind of an expression that's unreadable, and Kanda can feel the intense gaze that's prodding insistently._

"_What," he growls, but it's almost inaudible._

"_Are we dating now?" Lavi asks, looking the most serious Kanda's ever seen him._

_The blunt question catches him off guard—more than this whole weird situation already has. But Lavi is still looking at him intently, eye occasionally flicking down to his mouth until the other visibly catches himself. Lavi is leaning forward unconsciously, forward, forward, wetting his lips and—_

* * *

"…I want to forget," Kanda says bitterly.

"I know," Alma leans his head on Kanda's shoulders and murmurs. "I know."

* * *

Fuck.

Lavi sits up abruptly in his uncomfortable chair at his own office when he's flicking at the stack of contracts with the clauses he's supposed to be familiar with within a week's time.

His scarf.

Is in Kanda's office.

Fuck.


	4. Three

_Three_

* * *

"…—are you listening to me, Kanda?"

Silence.

"Kanda! _Kanda_!"

"What," Kanda huffs, wincing at the sudden rise in volume at his ear. He tears away his stare on the orange scarf in his hands irritably, cursing himself for getting distracted.

He should've left the stupid scarf to burn in his office, except he couldn't stand the sight of it draping over the chair so casually. It just reminded him of… of…well. Everything. He took it when he was leaving the office with the intention to dump it with the receptionist, except, he always left the office late, so of course the receptionist was gone. Seeing no other choice then to stupidly walk back down the corridor or taking it along, well, it ends up now at home, in his hands.

"Have you listened to a word I've been saying?" Lenalee's usually gentle voice has an edge of exasperation to it over the phone.

Lenalee Lee, if Kanda would ever bother to introduce, is probably one of the few people he considers he's _friends_ with. The concept is still weird to him and their friendship began even stranger—in France. He was a college student then. She was in high school with a post-doc brother specialising in neurorobotics. Kanda always had a preference for Asian food and so he became a frequent customer at a Chinese takeaway near his dorm where she was a part time. She was delighted to see his familiar face weekly, and maybe it was their ethnic-ship (however far) in a country full of people not like them that they somehow gotten along. Her brother was miffed by the relationship, but that quickly changed when it was known Kanda's preference did not lie with girls.

"…Yes."

"Right," the girl says, oddly enthusiastic. "So, is that a yes?"

"Yeah, yea—" he starts, then pauses suspiciously. "Wait, what the fuck am I agreeing to?"

Lenalee's laughter follows. "You're not allowed to back out on this one, since you've given me your word."

Kanda grumbles, regretting that he should've just admitted that he wasn't listening. "What is it?"

"Dinner—"

"—I'm not having dinner with your idiot brother," he says immediately. Lenalee can pretend to cry and use all sorts of puppy eye tactics but it isn't going to work if she wants him to come over for dinner again with her creepy psychotic brother.

"Just let me finish will you?" Lenalee huffs. "It's not dinner with my brother. It's dinner with a…a friend. He's one of the new phD students at the lab. He came down from Cambridge recently, so I thought it'd be nice to show him around London for a bit."

"Friend," Kanda repeats slowly after Lenalee finishes. "Why are you dragging me along for some stupid meal with your friend?"

"Because," Lenalee starts, tone obviously shifting to a whine that she knows works on him. "Because…he's a _guy_."

"So? Is he a creep?"

"No! He's really nice, I swear! Even you'd like him!"

"Doubt it."

"You would too."

"Whatever. So what's the fucking deal?"

"So…my brother doesn't, well, you know, _approve_."

"So?"

"So it'll put his mind at ease if _you're_ there."

"No."

"_Kanda_," he can practically hear her pouting over the phone. "Please. You promised."

"That was before I knew I was going to be the third wheel on your stupid date," he retorts. "I don't care what the fuck you do with your…'_friend'_," he grimaces as he pronounces the dubious word. "Just leave me out of it."

"But I can't do _anything_ even if I wanted to, you know that!" Lenalee cries, frustrated. "I'm already _twenty four_, I just want a date without my brother going ballistic—"

Kanda scoffs. "Sounds like a personal problem to me."

"Kanda, please?" she lowers her voice. "My brother likes you, so—"

"He only likes me because I'm not a threat to your virginity," Kanda states flatly. "He tried to cut my fucking hair the first time."

"—my brother likes you," Lenalee repeats firmly. "So if you're there, the four of us having dinner will be just like a bunch of friends having dinner, and not a date."

Kanda frowns. "Four?"

"He's bringing a friend too," she says. "It'll be fun! Besides," she begins mischievously. "I heard his friend is pretty good looking, single _and_ he likes guys, so, you might just—"

"Lenalee. Shut up or I won't go to your stupid thing."

Lenalee squeals instantly. "You're the best! I'll text you the time and place!"

"…You owe me."

"Yeah, yeah," she grins. "I'll see you on Friday then! Love you!"

Kanda scowls as he waits for Lenalee to giggle and sigh exasperatedly at his insistence to never say the terms of endearment back before ending the call. He tosses his cellphone somewhere towards his bed, leaning back down to sit on the floor. He had been squatting in the upmost uncomfortable position for the past ten minutes, poised over his lowest drawer.

Lavi's scarf sticks out starkly on his pristine floor. Fuck, he even hates the sight of the article of clothing. He grumbles as he snatches it up and stuffs it into the bottom drawer. He doesn't bother to yank the drawer out fully but instead shoves it in rather messily through a crack—only because he doesn't really care about it, he just wants it out of his sight—and also because he doesn't want to see another identical scarf from many years ago sitting in that drawer too.

* * *

Alma laughs at him when he tells—or bitches to—the other about the upcoming dinner on Friday morning over breakfast at _Lantana Cafe_. Alma has gotten sticky lately, demanding to meet up almost every day and he knows why—he's half grateful and half annoyed by the cook's presence. Nothing interesting happens over the course of the week though. Lavi doesn't turn up at the office for his missing scarf, Kanda shoves it out of his mind that he actually has it at home. Work is as normal as it is, thank fucking god.

After Lavi, Kanda's pretty sure nothing else can take the cake, not even meeting Lenalee's weird friends. The girl had picked _Abeno_ for her not-date, the only place they know of in central London that serves okonomiyaki. At least it is something he eats and not something like fucking fish and chips—maybe Lenalee knows he'd just ditch her if that was the case.

"Hey, have you ever thought of getting it on with her brother?" Alma asks completely seriously as he drizzles his pancakes with so much maple syrup, Kanda can't even see the pancake anymore. "I mean, he approves of you although he's so _anti-man_. Maybe it's not actually about guys coming after Lenalee but he could actually want to tap _you_."

Kanda can't even manage a response as the sheer _horrification_ of that suggestion blew his mind. "…Ew."

"Think about it! It's totally possible right?"

"No. Just," Kanda shudders. He actually puts his fork down. "No. Komui is fucking _forty_—"

"Actually, thirty eight—"

"—ew fuck, you're fucking _sick_."

"So?" Alma raised his eyebrows as he stuff a pancake into his mouth and chews. "Your mister _numero_ _uno_ was a downright _creep_ and you still banged him."

"Stop bringing him up, you dick. But, at least I have _taste_," Kanda retorts. "Have you _seen_ the fucking sister complex?"

"Nope," Alma replies cheerfully. "I'd love to, as I've told you a million times."

"You're never meeting Lenalee or her creepy brother," Kanda says for the nth time, picking up his fork stabbed with a piece of banana bread. "Never."

"Never say never," Alma sings. "Anyway, you should be happy you have friends—other than me—to take you out."

"She's just using me," Kanda snorts.

"Because it's so like you've never gotten free food because of her for two years or anything," Alma says with a smirk.

Only two, because Lenalee and her brother moved to London for her college degree in psychology, and it was probably just so lucky that Kanda's home was back there too that their friendship did not waver.

"I didn't ask for it."

"And you ate them anyway. For two years."

"Fuck you."

"I love how you always regress to that when you know I'm right," Alma grins. "Besides, it could be fun. Lenalee's there, you don't have to worry about…you know."

Kanda scoffs. "What's so fun about meeting a bunch of idiots?"

"Meeting a bunch of idiots, one of which might be your bed warmer for tonight. Have fun, Yuu," Alma teases. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"I won't do anything that _you_ would do," Kanda says viciously, biting his bread. "Freak."

* * *

Kanda reaches _Abeno_ early, much to his disgruntlement. It's true that he's a stickler for time—because he hates it when other people are late (since he never is), and he has to stand awkwardly by himself until the douches arrive. He'd even left the office later than he should, but his walking pace was probably much faster than whatever it was dictated on his GPS.

The waitress shows him to the reserved four seater table with shy interested smile he's used to. He takes the menu and flips through it idly, steadfastly ignoring his surroundings. It's barely a minute later that he recognises Lenalee's footsteps from the kind of dangerously thin high heels that she wears, and he doesn't get to face her properly before he's pulled into a tight hug, angle made awkward by the fact that he's seated.

"Woman," he hisses, trying to edge away.

Lenalee beams, pretty eyes blinking innocently as she shifts properly to take the seat next to him. "Don't give me that look. I haven't seen you in a month."

"With good reason—ow," he glares at the feet pressing on the tip of his shoe.

A soft chuckle caches both of their attentions, and Lenalee sits up straighter, embarrassed. "Oh, Allen, please sit."

The other guy who had presumably came with her smiles genially and seats himself on the opposite side. Kanda glances over briefly, attention caught by the white crop of hair and huge scar slashing from his forehead to his cheek. Upon closer inspection, whoever this is looks really young—maybe just out of high school, there's no way the kid has a neuroscience undergraduate degree and be in Lenalee's lab as a phD student. What the fuck—this guy is _most_ _definitely_ a creep. He even smiles like a creep.

A grade A creep.

"This is Allen," Lenalee introduces. "He's one I was telling you about, and Allen, this is Kanda."

"Nice to—" Allen stops abruptly, smile faltering. "…Kanda?" he says it like it's a foreign word—fine, it is, but the fucking accent just _butchers_ it.

"What?" Kanda snaps.

The younger looks taken aback, blinking rapidly. "…N-nothing. Your name is just a little…"

"A little what?" Kanda grinds out less heatedly than he would have, because Lenalee holds his wrist in warning.

"I mean, your name is quite unusual," Allen settles on, looking unsure. "I don't mean anything bad by it! I just, haven't…haven't heard it before."

Kanda's scowl doesn't lessen. He is generally not a nice guy, but there's something about this beansprout that he _really_ doesn't like. The younger looks at him like he _knows_ something and doesn't know what to do about it. It pisses him off.

"He's half-Japanese, if that's what you're wondering—" Lenalee attempts to explain before Kanda makes his disdain clear, but she's interrupted by another voice—this time, _this_ one, Kanda _really_ fucking hates.

"_Al_len!"

He hates it because he immediately feels like throwing up, like a gag reflex. His skin goes cold, because there's just no way—no fucking way— but he doesn't even need to glance up to recognise that fucking irritating way _Lavi_ curls his letters.

Lavi.

What the _fuck_.

"Hey, Lavi," Allen smiles slightly strained when he looks up at the other.

The redhead is in obvious shock, hand loose on Allen's shoulder from his greeting and gaze frozen at the sight of the half-Japanese man seated across. Because Allen is privy to a rough idea of the history behind the two, he easily sees through the fake plastic smile Lavi recovers with.

"It's about time you introduced me," Lavi teases, tone kept carefully light as he takes his seat right across Kanda. "I've heard so much about the beautiful lady, except her name," he mock whispers to Lenalee who giggles.

"This is Lenalee," Allen starts, nudging his friend in the ribs. "And…Kanda. Well, um, this is Lavi. He was my college senior."

"Nice to meet you," Lenalee smiles, nodding.

When Kanda doesn't look up, she elbows him discreetly under the table, shooting him a look. He scowls in her direction and she rolls her eyes, and for once he is thankful for his horrible deposition that Lenalee just assumes its normal behaviour.

"I'm sure Kanda's delighted to meet you both, but I suppose he's a tad too hungry," she says, shaking her head. "Shall we order?"

What are the chances of meeting Lavi again, right?

Fate.

Destiny.

_Fucking bullshit._ Kanda thinks sourly as he grabs the menu closer and pretends to look intently at it. Why the hell is god _not_ leaving him the fuck alone?

Although he stares at the printed words on paper nothing registers, except for the tremor in his hand from gripping it too tight. He shoved his hands under the table to hide it from view, clenching them tightly. Count your fingers, he reminds himself, slow tapping each of them to keep his breathing under control. He feels like Lavi is glancing over so often at him but he can't be sure, because he doesn't want to look up.

When the waitress comes, Allen peeks over his menu to see everyone else deep in thought with their own decisions. "Lenalee? Would you like to order first?"

"You go ahead, I'm still deciding."

"Are you sure?"

"Most definitely," she frowns, squinting at a line.

Lavi and Kanda are staring at the list of okonomiyakis available like it contains the secret to immortal life; Allen has no idea who they think they're fooling with the choking tension, but he isn't going to make a scene if both of them want to ignore it. He glances unsurely at Lenalee for a last moment before shrugging.

"In that case—" he says, looking at the waitress. "I'll have the two portions of the tofu salad, four servings of tempura kakiage, four of the chicken kushikatsu, five yaki-gyoza, two ebi itame, one large tonpei-yaki, spicy please, an onigiri shake, the super deluxe Osaka and Tokyo mixes, the Abeno special—"

"…Excuse me for a sec," Kanda mutters, abruptly standing up.

The chair scrapes the floor in a sharp screech, but he's stalking towards the restrooms before anyone can make eye contact with him.

Allen falters in his list of orders but he resumes it when Lavi doesn't seem to acknowledge the movement.

"—I think I'll give the pork, squid and prawn om-soba a try too. And a miso soup," he says, leaving the waitress to hurriedly scribble after his rattled orders. "For dessert," he hums, flipping the page in thought. "For dessert…"

"I'll go check up on Kanda for bit," Lenalee interrupts smoothly, standing up from her seat. "Get me the spicy tsuruhashi okonomiyaki and a calpico. Thanks."

There isn't anything Allen can do but to watch Lenalee disappear towards the restrooms in curiosity before he continues his order. "…Do you serve mitarashi dango by any chance?"

* * *

Lenalee is far from stupid or oblivious—the tension that had settled when Allen's redhead friend arrived was positively _stifling_. It might also be due to the fact that she's working on a phD in psychology—neuropsyschology to be precise, and that she knows Kanda enough to know that something is up.

She's pretty sure Kanda went to the restrooms not for its actual function, and that makes her really curious. Curious enough to shove the male restroom door open, forgetting about the fact that _other_ people could have been in it.

Apparently Kanda, who was standing by the urinals thought the same, because he startles badly when she steps in. "What the fuck—this is the _male_ toilet, you space cadet!"

"I know," Lenalee rolls her eyes, settling her hands on her hips. "I came in to find you."

She doesn't miss the subtle movement of his hand shoving his phone into his back pocket. "In the fucking toilet? Are you a pervert?"

"As good looking as you are, I am really not attracted to your horrible personality," Lenalee huffs indignantly. "What's up, Kanda?"

Kanda shoots her a distinctly confused glare and she sighs, lowering her voice.

"You know Allen's friend?" she questions quietly, folding her arms. "Lavi?"

She can clearly see that Kanda wants to lie about it from the panicked gaze darting, but eventually he clenches his jaw tightly and nods. "From work."

He doesn't asks how she guessed it—Lenalee's always been more perceptive than he gives her credit for.

"And you don't like him?" she presses.

He wants to say_ yes, yes he fucking _hates_ Lavi_, but the words don't get out. Instead, he says, "…We had a fight."

"I see," Lenalee nods. "Do I need to talk to him?"

"No."

She doesn't look convinced. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No!" Kanda snaps before he can reign the impulse in. "It's…it's a stupid thing. I can deal with it."

"Okay," Lenalee says.

She looks at him thoughtfully and Kanda isn't comfortable with any kind of understanding that she will conclude with.

"Lenalee," he grinds out after a minute of silence.

"Yeah?"

"Can you get out?"

She looks offended until he gestures at their surroundings. "I'm in the fucking _toilet_ for a reason."

"Oh," she winces, bashful. "Um. Right. Sorry."

It's only after a long echo of silence after her exit that Kanda digs out his phone again, and tries to resume his text to Alma with shaky hands.

* * *

"Your girl just went into the male toilets," Lavi says completely flabbergasted after their orders have been taken.

Allen flushes. "She's not 'my girl', she's just…Lenalee," he replies, because over the past few weeks that he's gotten to know the Chinese girl, he's been learning that Lenalee is one of a kind. His next sentence starts with a lot more caution. "That's him right?" he murmurs, softer. "_The_ Kanda?"

He expects an outburst or a grunt, but what he gets instead is Lavi's stony silence.

"Lavi…" he ventures cautiously, touching the other on the arm. "Are you okay?"

"No," the redhead states flatly, but it loosens up into smile obviously strained. "Yes. _Yes_," Lavi attempts to roll his eye. "Sheesh. I was just kidding."

Allen doesn't buy it for a second. "I swear I had no idea he was going to be here. Lenalee just said she was bringing a friend, and—"

"Dude, chill," Lavi cuts him off. "You wouldn't have known. Who the fuck would expect this right?" he mutters somewhat sarcastically to himself. "Small world. Too small."

And yet, he hadn't seen Kanda once in the past seven years.

"Didn't you meet him on Monday?" Allen questions curiously. "Did something happen, or—

"Nothing happened."

"But—"

"Nothing happened," Lavi repeats, this time more dully. "Like, literally. He didn't want to talk. So we didn't."

Allen frowns to himself, at a loss of how to respond. They sit quietly until Lenalee reappears back at the table.

"We didn't order for Kanda, because we didn't know what he'd want," Allen says.

Lenalee hums in thought. "If he doesn't come out soon we'll just get him the prawn yakisoba."

Lenalee starts small talk by asking what Lavi does for a living and chatter fills up the silence. Minutes pass before the conversation at the table starts to trickle. She doesn't miss the way the redhead avoids looking at the empty seat beside her although it's _empty_. When it's clear that Kanda isn't getting out of the restroom any time soon, she presses her lips together.

There's once when she and Kanda fought, many years ago—she can't remember why or what, but she does remember that Kanda will never make the first move.

"Lavi," Lenalee begins gently when there is a lapse. "I'm sorry to put this out, especially when we've just met. But. I've known Kanda for a very long time and trust me, I _know_ he can be a bit harsh," to Lavi's credit, his expression doesn't betray anything, "And a lot of the things that he says or does tend to come off the wrong way, but he's got a good heart," she says evenly before attempting a softer tone. "I'm not taking sides because I'm sure you're a perfectly nice guy, Lavi. Kanda can be extremely stubborn, so I'm asking you to be the better man and sort it out with him," she states carefully. "I don't know what argument you two had over work, but ignoring the issue isn't going to help. Whatever it is, this is likely to affect your company's performance as well, wouldn't it?"

Lavi swallows, obviously thinking of how to respond. It's clear that Lenalee doesn't know actual situation and for some reason he feels relieved that Kanda's sharing habits has not changed, and yet he also feels annoyed at how _nobody_ knows what the half-Japanese thinks at all. He debates arguing his case—it's not _his_ fault, it really isn't—because _he's_ all for talking about it.

He can talk about how her friend crushed his innocent heart so hard seven years ago that he's more fucked up than he'd ever like to admit. He can talk about how her friend has no issue treating him as less than the dirt on the ground. He can talk about how she doesn't really know who her friend is, because Kanda hasn't showed himself to _own_ a heart.

But, he's not that kind of guy.

"Yeah, I know. You're right," he says instead. "I'll go sort it out with him."

"Thank you," Lenalee smiles.

Allen glances at him unsure, but the younger doesn't stop from him leaving the table. Lavi heads towards where Kanda disappeared to, real expression of irritancy finally let through when he's faced away from everyone else. Once at the restroom door he places a hand on it just for a short moment to breathe in.

He'll just try for the last fucking time.

Kanda is leaning against the sink with his phone in his hands when he walks in. Hiding out in the toilet texting his boyfriend, Lavi thinks sourly, while he had to be the one to take the first step. Because life is just that fair. Kanda backtracks in shock and it's clear that he wants to be anywhere but here, and Lavi doesn't give him that satisfaction. He purposely crosses his arms whilst standing back against the door.

"Clearly you can't avoid me forever," Lavi begins, steely after a tense period of silence. "So let's talk."

"There is nothing to talk about," Kanda says, and this exactly the reason why Lavi is so ready to punch a wall.

He is fucking _sick_ of this.

"Let's start with this," the redhead growls. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you."

"Yeah?" Lavi snorts, glaring. "Then look me in the eye."

Kanda tenses visibly but he does eventually meet the hardened gaze with a glare of his own. Lavi has no idea why he thought Kanda's angry expressions were cute back then—now, it just mocks him sick to the stomach. He can remember how Kanda's long hair would make him look softer when it's let loose around his shoulders, he can remember laughing so hard when Kanda failed to shut him up from teasing. He can remember feeling like he was punched in the gut from how _beautiful_ Kanda looks—had looked when the other was embarrassed. Now, Kanda's front bangs shadow his face to a darker cutting expression, and the short end at the nape makes his shoulders stick out more defensively.

Lavi takes a controlled breath. "Did you know it was me that night?"

He knows both of them know exactly what he's referring to. There's only _one_ night that they ever spent together.

But instead Kanda says, "What night?" like it doesn't mean anything.

And maybe, it doesn't.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?" Lavi snarls, temper lost. "What the fuck did I do to you? Whatever shit you have with me, say it straight to my fucking face! Was it because I fucked you?" he growls low. "Because that would be _gold_, Yuu. I didn't hear anything but you begging me to fuck you harder."

Kanda's glare instantly goes stone cold in fury, and the tension in his clenched jaw makes it very clear that he's barely controlling it. Lavi twitches his lips into a small smirk, goading. If Kanda isn't going to say anything then fuck, Lavi is going to provoke him until he does.

"Is that it?" he taunts. "You want me to fuck you again? Like a whore?"

"You fucking _asshole_," Kanda hisses. "You can go fuck yourself!"

Lavi takes a slow step forward, and Kanda steps back in reflex.

"Are you afraid I'm going to jump you or what?" Lavi frowns. "I'm over you, okay," he snorts, rolling his eye. "You don't have to worry a fucking shit about that."

"What the fuck do you care?"

"I did, and then I realised I really don't," the redhead says flatly. "I only came in because your friend told me to. My buddy really likes this girl, and I'll be dammed if _you're_ the reason why this screws up."

_Like how _he's_ screwed them up_, is the unsaid sentence.

"I don't know what the _fuck_ is wrong with you," Lavi continues. "But can you at least, for the sake of your friend, sit at the fucking table without running away like you always do?"

Kanda tightens his fists so tightly that even his blunt nails start to dig into his palm, close to drawing blood. The thing is, he has nothing to say in return. Lavi's right about every single thing—it's _his_ fault that he can't stand to be in the presence of the other, it's _his_ fault that he's screwed them up, it's _his_ fault that he will run away—and always, run away from this.

The flash of hurt glitters sharply in his eyes for a moment before it gets engulfed by shaking anger.

"What the fuck do you know," he seethes darkly.

He hates to prove Lavi right but he also runs from this—he stalks forward, not caring if their shoulders clash painfully, and storms right out of the restroom.

Lavi stares at the empty vicinity, silence echoing sickly. Slowly he gets to the sink and washes his face, trying to clear his head. He's over this. He's so over this. He's—he punches the mirror, shattering it. The force of his hit vibrates through his bones but he doesn't feel it—nor does he feel the stinging pain, or the blood trickling down his knuckles.

"Lavi?"

He jumps at the sound of Allen's concerned voice. "Ah—hi, Al," his voice is slightly cracked as he attempts to lighten his tone.

"Kanda just left," Allen starts carefully, attention obviously caught by the shattered glass. "He said he wasn't feeling well. Err…is everything okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah," Lavi waves him off, shoving his hand into his pocket. "Is Lenalee still there?"

"Yes, but we—"

"Oh, good," the redhead cuts him off smoothly, slinging an arm around his shoulder as he steers them both back to the table outside. He forces Allen to sit down and sighs regretfully. "I'm sorry I can't stay. I'm afraid I'm not feeling too good either," he says apologetically. "You two have fun. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lenalee."

He doesn't wait for a reply before he hurries out, unable to stand being inside for any longer. He vaguely registers Allen calling to him but it's muted when the front door swings shut behind him. A chill breeze blows by, and he breathes in deep.

* * *

"You fucking asshole," Alma says as he swipes the tequila shot out of Kanda's hand.

Kanda clicks his tongue and lunges for the glass shot. "Give that back."

But Alma basically slides the glass down the bar counter behind him. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?" he demands angrily. "I told you to go home, not to go into the nearest gay bar to get yourself fucking drunk!"

"Hey bloke," A fair-faced redhead standing beside Kanda interrupts. "He agreed to let me fuck him—"

"Piss off, dick," Alma snaps, annoyed. "Can't you see that he's not in his right fucking mind right now?"

The guy raises his hands in defence and walks away, shaking his head.

Kanda isn't paying attention to either of them, hand raised to catch the attention of the bartender.

"Yuu, let's go."

"Leave me alone," Kanda mutters.

Alma sighs and yanks him harshly by the arm.

"Fuck you, Alma—"

"Shut the fuck up," Alma states dangerously, gripping his fingers tight on Kanda's bicep. "Come home, or I'll tell Tiedoll everything. _Come_."

Kanda lets himself be dragged out this time, though his demeanour is icy. They say nothing as Alma hails a cab and rattles off his address, and the silence stays until they enter his living room, where Alma basically grabs him by the front of his shirt and forces him to sit on the couch.

The other then kneels on the floor at his feet.

"Look," Alma starts quietly. "I know it's rough, but getting drunk and letting some stranger fuck you is not the way to get over him," he quickly continues when Kanda looks like he's about to snarl something offensive. "Remember the aftermath?" he asks, staring straight at his best friend. "It's worse. Tons worse than whatever you're feeling now. Please don't make the same mistake again, Yuu."

Kanda lets loose a frustrated breath that he doesn't know he was holding. When Alma says it then he remembers—the year straight after high school had been his worst. Being in a foreign country where he could only speak a smattering of phrases coupled with the constant high school memories that taunted him day and night, the gnawing feeling like the world was shrinking one heartache at a time chewed its way into his better sense. He had went to find someone to help him _forget_—except, seven years later, he still hasn't.

"It's been seven years, Yuu," Alma says with a bitter twist to his lips. "It fucks me over to say this, but I think if you can't get over him all these years, you're never getting over him."

"I am over him." Kanda retorts. "I just—"

Alma shakes his head. "Listen. I've been patient with you on this one because I know you don't want to hear anything else, but," he look at Kanda evenly. "You're _not_ over him, Yuu. I don't know _what_ this is—love or obsession, fuck if I know, but clinging on to him? It's fucking you up _more_. I know you've been trying, but by god, it's not working. Everyone you fuck is a redhead because _he's_ a redhead, and you know it. So maybe the answer isn't about getting over him. Maybe you have to _start over_ with him. How about it, Yuu?"

"How do you expect me to do that?" Kanda glares. "I can't even—" he grinds out frustrated. "I can't even think about him without wanting to throw up, I—fuck—"

"Okay," Alma nods slowly. "Why do you feel like throwing up? Back then it was because you were so crazy about him, and now, are you still…?"

"I don't—" Kanda's voice cracks a little. "I don't fucking know! You think I want this? You think I want to be in—in…—I just don't—"

Alma watches him struggle with the sentence before he starts gently. "Why don't you try to meet him half way? Maybe if you tell him, he'd—"

Kanda shakes his head before Alma finishes the sentence.

"Look," Alma sighs. "I can't see how this can get any worse. I mean, sorry for saying this, but he probably already hates you," Kanda facial expression doesn't change when he says it. "But if you tell him the reason why you react the way you do, he might—"

"No. I can't," Kanda snarls. "Fuck, I can't—"

"Yuu," Alma groans exasperatedly. "Why can't you just—"

"Because I can't!" Kanda yells at him, temper flying. "Because I _can't_," he repeats, voice hoarse.

Because back then he couldn't tell Lavi the stupid reason why he started avoiding the other, and he still can't, even now.

* * *

Lavi isn't really paying attention to his surroundings as he dabs at his bloodied knuckles with a tissue, so it's completely justified that he startles when a mug of beer slides over to his direction. He looks up at the man who grins in his direction—dark unblemished skin, slicked back hair, glittering eyes, a beauty mark below his left eye and a straight set of white teeth.

"I met a man once who had the same look in his eyes," the man says by way of conversion, gaze travelling down once in a slow manner before the smile widens. "Eye," he corrects later.

"Yeah?" Lavi snorts. "And what look is that?"

"The most pathetic look I've ever seen," the man answers, seating himself into the seat next to his.

Lavi taps on his own empty mug of beer and decides to take the offered drink. "Do you say that to everyone you approach?"

The other shrugs non-committedly, pulling out a cigarette box. The stench of smoke joins the musky air seconds later, wisps flowing pass his lips as he breathes out. He cocks his head in offering. Lavi takes it—the guy is dressed decent in an understated work suit and a watch that probably costs five times more than his rent, and his chiselled mature features doesn't hurt one bit.

"If it's true," the man says, and Lavi vaguely recognises a hint of a European accent behind his words. "It is true, is it not?"

Lavi sucks on the bitter tar and nicotine of his smoke because he doesn't want to say anything.

"Tell me about her."

Just for a second, Lavi very nearly does so. Although he has told Allen bits and pieces over the years, he certainly hasn't told anyone _everything_—like how he still trips over the person he once was in high school, deluded in a love that wasn't returned. "…I don't want to talk about it."

The older man looks at him calmly, takes a mouth of beer, and swallows. "I can help you…forget," he offers, and it's very clear exactly _what_ he's offering.

Lavi pauses, cigarette just touching his lips. "You thought I was straight."

The man shrugs, looking not too concerned. "You'd still agree."

"Doubt it," Lavi smiles, just slightly. "And no thanks. It's not about that though—I'm fine both ways, but well," he shrugs. "Forgetting?" he says with a wry tone. "It wouldn't work."

"Maybe you just haven't tried me," the man smirks. "But if you'd prefer, you can moan their name all you want. Get it out of your system. I'm not picky."

"Is that what you did for that guy?" Lavi asks curiously at the causal invitation.

"I don't kiss and tell."

"Baggage-laden sex," Lavi raises his eyebrow. "What's in it for you?"

The man grins, letting loose a slow trail of white smoke from his lips. "I don't like clingy partners."

Lavi drinks a slow couple of mouthfuls, leaning his cheek on his palm lazily. The other just sits languidly, taking more hits out of his cigarette. He doesn't seem very bothered by any kind of reaction that Lavi might give—he's just waiting patiently, enjoying the quiet buzz of the bar.

The man _does_ have a very nice physique.

Lavi finishes the beer at his own time before hopping off the stool to stretch. "Your place or mine?"


	5. Four

_Four_

* * *

"Alma Karma, at your service."

"Lenalee Lee, at yours."

Alma grins, gripping the petite Chinese girl's hand firmly. "I feel like I'm qualified to say I've been waiting for this moment for years."

He had been surprised when he received a call from someone Kanda swore he would never meet requesting that they make acquaintance at her work place. Truthfully he had been a little flattered that Lenalee knew of his existence—it meant that Kanda had talked about him to the girl at _some_ point.

"I can't say that I have, but," Lenalee smiles. "I have been pretty curious who could have the honour of being Kanda's best friend."

She holds their handshake for a second more before releasing it, taking a proper glance at the older male. Alma somehow does and doesn't fit the image she always had when Kanda complains about the other—he looks decent with a playful air, nothing like the "scheming bastard" she'd been told about. Decked in a casual buttoned shirt and grey washed jeans, he looks every bit _normal_. Kanda is such a liar.

"It makes me blush when you say it out loud," Alma teases, walking after Lenalee who beckons him down a corridor.

Alma hasn't been to a research laboratory before—he's never really enjoyed science in school which he took till high school. All his needed skills are honed at his uncle's restaurant, which is basically what he sees on a daily basis growing up. He had been expecting brains and mice and god knows what weird high tech equipment whatever brain research facilities have—and is truthfully disappointed at the rather normal office Lenalee works in. People peer over computers in the rooms when he sneak peeks along the way down the carpeted corridor.

Lenalee stops at a door with a label _Testing Room 1_, swinging it open to gesture him inside. All Alma sees are a table and two chairs. He blinks.

"Take a seat."

He does so, shifting as comfortable as he can. Lenalee disappears abruptly and comes back seconds later with two cups of steaming hot tea.

"So," Alma begins after he accepts the offered drink with a thanks. "To what do I owe this pleasure to?" he asks. "Must be something important if you specially asked Tiedoll for my number. Not that I'm complaining if it's a beautiful girl like you," he winks.

Lenalee chuckles slightly, shaking her head. "You've probably guessed it, but it's about Kanda."

"What about Yuu?"

"Well," she looks at him cautiously. "Are you aware of someone called Lavi?"

Alma closes his parted mouth. He is honestly impressed at her straightforwardness. "…I could be," he answers eventually. "Why?"

Lenalee regards him carefully before speaking. "Does Kanda tell you everything?"

"Maybe?" he frowns. "He might have a secret kink I don't know about, but sure, I think he tells me most things."

"So then, you know something happened between Kanda and Lavi, yes?"

"I suppose," he replies, not wanting to let on any more than he wants to.

"Kanda told me it was a work related issue," Lenalee quirks a smile. "But he's such a bad liar. When he lies, he looks to the right and the muscle here," she taps below her jaw, "it twitches. You know it too, don't you?"

"Of course," Alma smirks.

"Obviously whatever between him and Lavi is a lot more than a work disagreement and I don't need to know the details," she continues. "But," she exhales, looking intent. "But, I know the…signs. How long has this been going on?"

"…Long enough," Alma says carefully as if trying to judge if she really knows what she is talking about.

"Since before I met him?" Lenalee questions, but she doesn't press when he is slow to reply. "When we were in France, sometimes, he'd look a little bothered…a similar kind of bothered, but never to this extent. I know you're not at liberty to tell me much, but...Lavi…is this his fault?"

"Err…" Alma scratches his nose. "Honestly, I have no idea. Kind of, but not really? Like, I don't think he did anything in particular but it's just…him?" he says with a skeptical tone. "I suppose?"

"…Okay," she blinks. "On Kanda's side then, is it…serious?"

"I…I would probably say so," Alma concedes.

"And you understand what he has?" she asks warily.

"Mostly."

"He's not clinically diagnosed, is he?"

"You think?"

"No," she answered her own question without hesitance. She bit her lip after. "Self-diagnosis is dangerous," she says, measured.

"I know it is, Miss Lee," Alma smiles, but there isn't much cheer in it. "But I did a shit ton of research to help Yuu deal with it, because it _happens_. I'd like to think I at least understand what _Yuu's_ going through, never mind whatever fancy names doctors like to call it. And Yuu…was coping, until. Until, well," he sighed, tapping his fingers on the table. "If you've figured out most of it, you can probably guess the rest."

Lenalee nods slowly. "Is it psychosomatic? Or genetic?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're the expert, you tell me."

"I'm a neuropsychologist, not a neuropsychiatrist."

"What's the difference?"

"I investigate and conduct experiments. I don't treat patients," she answers. "Besides, my phD has nothing to do with any neuropsychiatric disorders."

"Oh," he blinks. "Well. I just know _what_ happens, not _why_ it happens. And I don't know anything about Yuu's biological parents—except they've must've been real knockouts with the way Yuu turned out."

Lenalee stifles a giggle as Alma grins at his own joke.

"…Does Lavi know?" she questions after, slightly hesitant.

"I doubt it," he replies, frowning. "Shouldn't you ask your boyfriend? He's the redhead's friend, isn't he?"

Lenalee blushes, just a tiny bit. "Allen isn't my boyfriend," she corrects, to which Alma just smiles without a word. "I'm not really sure if he knows anything about it," she confids. "We didn't talk about it and I don't want to say anything if he doesn't."

Alma nods, and they fall into silence. He takes the chance to drink his tea—now slightly cooled. The warm liquid swirls in his mouth before he swallows it down, watching the girl across with a small growing fondness. "I kind of see why Yuu likes you."

She grins. "I'm probably the best thing that happened to him in France," she teases. "He was the best thing that happened to me in France," she says after, voice soft. "I just had to know if he had someone with him in this," she admits. "That's why I asked Mr Tiedoll about you. You won't tell Kanda about this, will you?"

"You don't have to worry," he smiles amicably. "Yuu's got me. We'll deal with it, like we always have."

"If there's anything I can do to help…"

"To be honest, the only thing that can help Yuu is himself," he says with a sigh. "But yeah, you can probably guess how that's going. We're working on it. Slowly."

"I'm glad to know," Lenalee says sincerely.

"You know," Alma speaks up after a lag of conversation. "You're a lot hotter than I imagined." At her raised amused eyebrow, he continues. "I'm _not_ hitting on you; I've heard horror stories about your older brother and don't take this the wrong way—I'm not racist, I mean, come on, I'm ethnic as you are, but," he looks at her. "I don't dig Asian chicks. You're totally safe from me."

The raised eyebrow goes higher. "…Then what about Kanda?"

Alma barks a loud laugh, nearly choking on his saliva. "I really like you, Miss Lee. We should meet up again sometime. You tell me more about the stupid shit Yuu did in college and I'll keep you updated about Yuu's progress."

"That's a fair trade," Lenalee agrees, smiling. "But you'll have to meet me here under the guise of doing one of my experiments again like today. My brother will…um…it won't end well for you if he finds out we had coffee or something," she sighs eventually. "To make it worth your time…what do you say to a brain scan?"

"Now?"

"If you can spare a couple of hours," she says. "You get paid for your time."

"Really? How much?"

"About ten pounds an hour."

"What's the catch?" Alma squints suspiciously.

"Nothing," she laughs. "It's just a simple experiment you do while I run the MRI scanner. I promise I won't drug you and cut your brain open."

"Then, hell yeah."

* * *

"Fuck, can you not," Kanda grinds out, glaring at the person seated way too casually across his desk.

"Does your father know you say such dirty words in front of your client?" Tyki raises an eyebrow, but he does flip the cigarette box close, pocketing it back into his pants.

"He's not my fucking dad," Kanda retorts. "And why the hell are you here? Where's the other guy? Or woman?"

"I missed your pretty face, Kanda, I just had to see you," the older man teases, voice in a drawl. "I'm a representative of Noah's Ark. Why can't I be here?"

"Because you suck at this shit," the half-Japanese scowls. "Do you even know what you're buying?" he narrows his eyes. "Or even how much you're paying?"

"Err…" Tyki coughs. "Do I need to?" he asks eventually.

The flat stare Kanda gives him says everything that the other can't be bothered to say. Truthfully, he does care very little about the art pieces Sheryl or Lulubell gets—it just so happens that both his siblings are big on art collecting, and he sometimes gets put to paperwork duty when the other two are out of the country. Noah's Ark has been a client of Eden's Art for _years_; he's quite confident that the prices he signs are reasonable, unlike the numerous times Kanda has threatened to swindle him if he doesn't at least fucking read through the summary slips.

He looks over at Kanda again, hair short at the nape, such a strange sight even though he's only ever seen the other with his gorgeously long hair once, many years ago. It still makes him whistle at the regret, but, he's not sentimental enough to ask why. Today, Kanda sits at his desk in his office every bit the professional office worker except for his language, unlike the college freshman he picked up at a bar in France.

"Why the fuck are you staring at me? Quit doing it—it's fucking creepy."

Tyki rolls his eyes and smirks. "If you won't let me smoke, _babe_, I have to distract myself from this suffocating silence somehow."

"Don't call me that," Kanda immediately snaps, annoyed. "The fucking asshole is late. Again," he mutters under his breath after.

Tyki hums patronisingly because the clock just reads 10: 01 am, but he shifts in boredom, crossing and uncrossing his legs about ten minutes later when all he's treated to is pointed silence and Kanda's irritancy at the lawyer who is eleven minutes late.

"I'll kill you if you light one," Kanda shoots him a glare when his hand itches to his pocket.

"Can't I just pay you the smoking fine?" Tyki grumbles. "You smoked when we fucked." The dark look intensifies further, and Tyki sighs, adjusting his collar. "You keep acting like I am the worst sex you ever had which I know isn't true," he smirks. "Or it because of La—"

He doesn't get to taunt Kanda, because suddenly the office door slams open with a bang, a redhead collapsing against the wooden structure. He pants heavily, face flushed from the obvious haste to reach his destination.

"I am so sorry—fuck, I—I didn't hear about the tube strike and I—…" Lavi stops dead still the moment he sets eyes on someone very familiar.

He stands gaping at the office doorway, eye wide in shock.

"Mr Kanda," the secretary appears behind him, looking harried. "I tried to make him wait till I called for you but he insisted—"

Even though Kanda's steeled himself for this over the weekend, but he still finds himself staring at the wall instead of at Lavi. Seeing that red hair is always such a squeeze of the throat—it twists his gut to something sour, especially after those echoing words ringing constantly in his head.

_I don't know what the _fuck_ is wrong with you._

_Can you not run away from this, like you always do?_

"Doesn't matter," he grinds out, waving her away to which she nods and leave. "Are you going to waste more time or what?" he glares at Lavi, who's still stuck frozen at the door.

"Y-yeah," the redhead blinks rapidly, staring at the older man sitting languidly in one of the chairs in a business suit similar to something he saw last week. "I mean, no," he corrects hastily, stumbling into the remaining empty chair. "No. I'm sorry I'm late. Really, I didn't—"

"Whatever," Kanda snaps, cutting him off coldly. "This is Mikk. He's the representative for Noah's Ark. The folders are here," he slides two towards Lavi. "Start."

"The name's Tyki," Tyki grins, revealing a full set of gleaming teeth as he holds out his hand for a handshake. "I don't believe I had the pleasure of knowing yours."

When Lavi woke up on Saturday morning feeling buzzed and sore, he had only registered the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his sheets before he slept in till the afternoon, alone. They didn't exchange names or numbers, something he was perfectly agreeable to—until now.

"Lavi," Lavi says warily, gripping the hand.

"…Lavi," Tyki repeats, rolling the name off his tongue. A glint of recognition shines in those golden eyes, and a smirk slips into the edges of his lips. He glances at Kanda ever so slightly. "You should have told me," he murmurs, eyes glinting. "_Yuu_."

Lavi freezes, because he had…he had whispered the name countless times when they—

"I said don't call me that," Kanda hisses at Tyki, and the look in his eyes sends a clear message that if he says a _single_ word, his death is the only thing he will know after. "Both of you are wasting my fucking time. Are you going to sign the damn thing or not?"

"So impatient," Tyki shakes his head, amused. The older man leans on his palm, ever so calmly. "So, _Lavi_," he drawls the name with great delight. "What do you have for me?"

* * *

They surprisingly end on schedule, but that's probably because Tyki doesn't really care about the clauses and no refund policy—whatever. Noah's Ark has been perfectly happy with their past procedures, and he's pretty sure that Kanda will take it in him to drill to him if something in the contract changes.

He lets the redhead drone on about the terms and conditions without even looking at the papers—quite creepy—and secretly watches the duo avoid all eye contact, even when they push papers to each other.

The situation makes him want to laugh, long and hard. He doesn't know what kind of luck this is; providing pity sex for _both_ of the occupants in the room at different times. It had been a surprise when he walked into Eden's Art three years after that one night stand, but he and Kanda had been quick to settle into some sort of an odd vague platonic relationship in which Kanda got annoyed with him eleven out of ten times. They only met when he was on paperwork duty, and they never really spoke about what they did in France except for his occasional tease when he wanted to rile the half-Japanese up—he only knew of the name 'Lavi', and, he doesn't have a habit of being invested in other people's business.

And now, _Lavi_, Tyki muses inwardly. He hadn't thought much of the name 'Yuu' last week, but of course, who else, but _Kanda Yuu_?

"So, Kanda," he grins when he's shoved the completed paperwork. "Have lunch with me."

"I'm busy," Kanda snaps immediately, stacking the other folders in some sort of show.

"Pity. Dinner?"

"Busy."

"Sex?"

Kanda sours and shoots him a glare. "What the fuck are you playing at?"

"I was just joking, _babe_."

"Don't. Call. Me. That," Kanda grinds out word by word.

"Lavi," Tyki glances ever so casually towards the redhead, who's looking at them both with an indescribable stare. "Since Kanda is such a wet towel, how about you join me for coffee?"

Just as Lavi opens his mouth to answer, Kanda interrupts.

"Mikk. A word."

The demand is a very clear order for Lavi to leave them alone, and the redhead merely clenches his jaw and turns on his heel, leaving the room without a moment's hesitation. No pleasantries. Tyki observes the behaviour curiously, but doesn't get to think too much about it when Kanda grabs him by the collar and yanks him down to eye level.

"If you say a fucking word to him—" Kanda threatens, voice in a low growl.

"Of how you let me fuck you crying his name so sweetly?" Tyki smirks, wincing when the grip tightens. "Do you still let people fuck—"

"Are you going to shut up or do you want me to punch you?" Kanda seethes.

"A kiss," Tyki says instead, eyes amused. "Kiss me, and I won't tell."

Kanda's death glare twists into an incredulous frown. "…Are you that desperate?"

Tyki huffs and rolls his eyes _passionately_.

"Get out," Kanda spits eventually, shoving the other away with a palm. "And close the fucking door behind you."

The older man straightens his suit jacket and lets himself out of the office, scoffing at the audacity of that ludicrous question. He swings the door close but doesn't pull it in to shut it completely, whistling while he strides away as he hears the door slam shut seconds later. He winks to the secretary who smiles at him, and stops at the lifts where one redhead stands, facial expression hard.

They don't say anything as they go to the ground floor—Lavi isn't anything like that casual, easy going guy he smoked a pack of cigarettes with in the other's room, now, the redhead is cold, stony and silent, much like…Kanda, Tyki supposes. How ironic.

It's only when they're out of the building that Lavi turns on him.

"What. The. Fuck," Lavi's voice is flat. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Tyki," he answers with a smile.

"No. How—who—did you—did you know who the fuck I was last week? Because fuck, this is a _sick_ game you're playing, _Mikk_," Lavi hisses.

"As amusing as this is, I for one, could not have conjured such fate," Tyki says, shrugging. "_Que será será, meu amigo._"

"I-I said his _name_! How could you not have recognised it?" Lavi demands. "Fuck, I can't believe you knew him and you still—you still—"

"Everyone calls him by his last name except his father," Tyki replies calmly. "If I had known your name," he shrugs. "I probably wouldn't have offered."

Lavi breathes in deeply. "…Are you going to tell him?"

Tyki blinks. "You and him," he says slowly. "Are two peas in a pod."

"What do you mean?"

Tyki only smirks, and the flurry of expressions that flash across the redhead's face is nothing compared to the emptiness of his tone after. Lavi's mouth feels stuck.

It's incomprehensible. He hadn't—he hadn't wanted to remember but he could never forget—so for once, he let a gorgeous man take the place of his past fantasies, or maybe, a memory of that night when he was so wasted he couldn't even recognise that it was Kanda, hot breath and heated skin sliding right against his.

If only Kanda had loved him, he would've done _anything_ for the other. But Kanda hadn't, and he was alone for seven years, flitting between people who never made him whole. Just _once_, he wanted a glimpse of what it could have been—which was buried to the back of his mind after, tasted and done, until just a few days later.

And now, whenever he looks at this man, he remembers what he had done; closed eyes and desperate kisses pretending the other was someone else.

He was over Kanda, wasn't he?

_Wasn't he?_

"You slept with Yuu," he murmurs, almost inaudible.

"His very first," Tyki nods. "Are you going to hit me?" he grins darkly.

Lavi swallows minutely, the tension in his jaw hardening as silent seconds pass. "No," he spits out eventually. "Yuu can…he can fuck whoever he wants. I don't care."

"Oh?" Tyki tilts his head. "You won't care if he let me fuck him because of you?"

Lavi stares.

"Have a good day, Lavi," Tyki chuckles, saluting him with two fingers as he turns to leave.

He barely takes two steps when Lavi's fingers grab his arm.

"We're getting that coffee."

* * *

Tyki drinks a mouthful of his black coffee at _Flat White_, content at the strong bitter taste settling at the base of his tongue. Perhaps he shouldn't do this—he's known Kanda for a very long time and this is nothing short of betrayal, but, they aren't exactly friends. Loyalty couldn't be expected of him.

Besides, Kanda didn't give him that kiss.

"Explain."

Tyki sips another mouthful slowly, a stark contrast to the agitated redhead across him. "Why don't you tell me about Kanda first?"

"Why?"

The older man shrugs very vaguely, blowing at his coffee.

Lavi swallows, frustrated. "I knew Yuu in high school," he starts, clipped. "We…fell out before graduation. I never saw him after, until two weeks ago."

"Coincidence?"

"You could say that."

"So what's stopping you?" Tyki asks. "He's there in his boring old office. Not much of a chase, I'd say."

"We're not…talking," Lavi says eventually earning a raised eyebrow. "It's complicated."

"I'm sure," Tyki snorts. "I met him in France."

"France?"

"He was in college," he relates, watching the unreadable expression of the other. "He was drinking at a bar, very much like you," he grins. "With the most pathetic look I've ever seen."

The air gets stuck in Lavi's throat as realization dawns. "He…he was the one you…"

"Yes."

"And…he…it was about…_me_?" Lavi whispers, very faintly. "…Why?"

"Well. Why did you?"

"Because I—" he stops, biting his bottom lip hard. "I…fuck, I…just…"

"You really shouldn't have to think that hard," Tyki says very amusedly, finishing up his coffee.

He really doesn't, but, he can't…he can't say it. He can't just say he still cares about someone who doesn't give a shit about him, not after yelling that he doesn't. He can't just say that he's thought of Kanda at least once every day for the past seven years, not when he's told himself he hasn't—_he hasn't, he hasn't, he has_—he can't just say that he still wants Kanda, not when he can't even stand in the same room with the other without everything going to hell.

Hypocrite.

Liar.

He can't just say he's still in love with Kanda to the point that the hurting becomes normal, not when he knows it's so, so _pathetic_.

He doesn't love Kanda anymore.

Not anymore.

_Liar._

_Hypocrite._

"It doesn't matter what I…" he says, voice hoarse. "Yuu hates me."

Tyki hums. "I wouldn't think so."

"I've done everything. I've tried talking to him," he continues, shaking his head. "He doesn't even want to look at me. He doesn't even—" he swallows, clearly upset. "Seven years. _Seven fucking years_ and he—"

"You might want to calm down," Tyki advises, tapping the table.

Lavi pauses in mid-sentence, staring stone still at the table when he realises other people are looking at him from his raised voice. "…Forget it," he mutters, standing up. "There's no fucking point to this. There never has been."

"Lavi," Tyki says, cheek against his palm. "Just kiss him."

"…Are you crazy?"

Tyki shrugs vaguely as he stands up, brushing his jacket absentmindedly. "What have you got to lose?"

* * *

Kanda slides down, back against his office door.

He's just so tired of everything, with coincidences and bad situations and his fucking stupid life. But at least, he got through today, didn't he? He knocks his head against the hard door, not even flinching at the pain filtering through his skull at the impact.

_Fucking stupid choices made in college_, he grumbles, fingers twisting into his short hair.

How sick was it that he had slept with one moaning the name of the other?

Fuck, he didn't want to think about it. Not about that pitiful heart pain, that pathetic, desperate way he—

No.

No. No. No. No.

No. No.

_His body was burning up. He breathed out ever so slowly, eyes squeezed tighter when a wet mouth sucked fervently at his hipbone, tongue curling hot his skin. He swallowed a groan as those lips explored further upwards, rubbing over his nipple in the most teasing manner possible. His fingers clenched, but he couldn't move his hands from where they were forced down beside his head._

"_Ah-h…L-lavi," he moaned, breaths turning out uneven as the tongue moved higher to suck on his neck._

_He could feel a smirk pressed against his throat and he kept his eyes shut as hard as he could, ignoring the stench of cigarette smoke and slight stubble brushing against his skin. He could see the red of Lavi's hair amidst the darkness. He could smell old books and ink, a scent that always followed Lavi around, and a hint of soft cotton. He could hear Lavi whisper his name, taking extra careful to pronounce all two syllables, the curl of his accent warming it up._

_It was Lavi touching him in all places, board palm slipping down the front of his boxers to grasp his hardening cock, causing him to buck forwards blindly. A slow stroke began from the base to the leaking tip, a finger teasing the slit in circles after._

_He choked, hips snapping at the assault of sensation flooding his senses. He tried to breathe, but his breath stuttered when his cock was engulfed in a deep wet heat, a vague vibration thrumming through his veins as the mouth on him groaned. He tried to bite his mouth shut but a whimper tore through, and the moment fingers pressed against his perineum, he gasped loudly, head thrown back._

"_Oh fuck, Lavi—" _

He clamps his hand tight over his mouth as he lurches forward in reflex, trembling hard.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.


End file.
